


The Hesitant Waltz Of The Snowflakes

by BlackAngelis



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Advent Calendar, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beautiful Golden Fools, Christmas, F/M, Forgiveness, Gen, Past Domestic Violence, Protective Siblings, Regret, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27896407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackAngelis/pseuds/BlackAngelis
Summary: Cersei reunites with Jaime and Tyrion after three years of absence and lots of tears shed.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister & Tyrion Lannister, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister/Robert Baratheon (past), Jaime Lannister & Tyrion Lannister
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [La valse hésitante des flocons de neige](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27822208) by [BlackAngelis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackAngelis/pseuds/BlackAngelis). 



> I want to thank SMcg for helping me translate this story <3.

Cersei watches the landscape scroll by the window with an absent air. The glass is cold against her cheek, the chatter of the other passengers are distant echoes that her mind tries in vain to ignore. The train passes through a city where a thousand little red, green, and golden lights shine - Highgarden, perhaps? She does not know how long she has been sitting there, perhaps because she does not want to get off.

Cersei looks down on her hands, contemplating the small cuts that cover them. Her nails dig into her palms.

"Madam?''

She jumps and slowly raises her head, hiding behind her hair. A woman with auburn hair smiles gently at her.

"Is this yours?''

Cersei recognizes her ID card, grinning slightly, she must have dropped it a little earlier.

"Yes. Thank you.''

She feels her gaze lingering more than necessary on her face, lowers her eyes, did she recognize her?

"You're welcome. Have a happy holiday season.''

_The wound is superficial, Mrs. Baratheon. You were very lucky._

"Thank you. And you too.''

Her voice is so cold that she barely recognizes it. The woman offers her one last smile where Cersei detects pity before joining her husband and their five children.

_Your complaint has been registered, Mrs. Baratheon. Your husband has been arrested. You are safe._

Cersei closes her eyes, her heart beats faster and faster as time passes. Outside, it is dark night and snow has begun to fall, but she is still able to recognize Lannisport, even though she hasn't been there in three years. You never forget a place where you have been happy.

She guesses the decorations that light up the streets, the Christmas market in the square, the frozen pond where children skate while laughing.

_Do you have a place to go?_

When the train arrives at the station, her throat closes. Three years. Three years of silence.

Cersei wipes the few tears that roll down her cheeks, grabs her suitcase and stands up.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaime is slumped on the couch and distractedly watching TV, lost in his thoughts. Tyrion approaches him without a sound, watching him for long seconds.

"You came home early last night. »

Night is falling and yet they have not spoken all day. Jaime shrugs his shoulders, Tyrion doubts that he really listened to what he told him.

"Are you coming? She... she should be here soon."

His voice became more measured, almost fearful, as every time the subject Cersei is discussed. Jaime didn't even flinch. 

He stands up without saying a word, Tyrion fears for a moment that he has upset him.

Jaime ruffles his hair.

"Since she's coming back to live here, you don't have to avoid saying her name all the time."

Tyrion offers him a small sad smile. The cold envelops them when they leave the house, the snow crunches under their footsteps. They can't make out any stars in the sky, the light of the decorations totally eclipses them. A few children come home from school and their laughter contrasts with the dark look that he and Jaime wear all too often, especially around the holidays.

"I broke up," Jaime says after a while.

Tyrion frowns.

"You pointed out that I came home early last night... well, that's because I broke up."

He doesn't know why his heart is so tight, maybe because he really liked Jaime's girlfriend or because his brother doesn't seem to feel any sadness, or both.

"Does... Cersei..." he says.

"It has nothing to do with Cersei's return," cuts Jaime, an angry tone in his voice.

He sighs.

"She wanted me to spend Christmas with her and her parents.’’

"...oh.’’

"Things were clear from the beginning. I'm not looking for anything serious.’’

Tyrion is satisfied with this answer, does not add anything. How many girls has Jaime broken the heart of in the last three years? Eight? Nine? He's lost count.

The train station is in sight, they witness scenes of reunion, grandparents hug their grandchildren and promise them hot chocolate, a man finds her husband after long weeks of separation, other couples kiss and hold hands. Jaime clenches his teeth and turns away from this spectacle.

"I hate Christmas," he whispers to himself, but Tyrion hears it anyway.

They sit on a bench and wait. Tyrion thinks of all the broken-hearted girls who have had the misfortune of falling in love with Jaime, but he thinks especially of his brother's broken heart, the one that nothing has ever been able to fix.

Cersei's train enters the station.


	3. Chapter 3

Jaime and Tyrion stand up, trying to catch a glimpse of their sister in the middle of the crowd. Jaime feels his hands shake slightly, hears his heart beating wildly, hates himself for it, almost hates himself for spontaneously suggesting that Cersei move back home when he heard her crying on the phone.

_So weak_ , Father would have said, but Father isn't there anymore, he died last year leaving Jaime alone at the head of the family business, something that had the merit of occupying his mind but certainly not filling the void in his heart.

When Cersei walks towards them, it takes him several seconds to recognize this fragile creature who keeps her head down and uses her long blond curls as a shield.

Their eyes meet. His sister's emeralds are tired and a little broken - or is it just a reflection of his?

The silence lingers.

"Hello," Cersei finally lets out.

Tyrion is the first to pull himself together, offers her a little smile.

‘’Hi," he says. ‘’It's good to see you again.’’

Jaime, with his lips pursed, is satisfied with a little nod. By reflex, he grabs Cersei's suitcase, their hands come into contact.

When he looks down and sees all the small cuts that cover her skin, he feels his heart turn over.

Three years. What could have happened in all that time? Are these cuts only a tiny part of the terrible truth?

"Let's go," he mumbles, turning away so he doesn't have to think too much, it was Cersei who left, after all, it was Cersei who burned a bridge, it was Cersei who refused to turn around when he ran after her in the street.

Jaime feels people staring at them, no wonder, everyone has heard about Cersei Baratheon, wife of the famous businessman Robert Baratheon, who was attacked by her drunk husband in the street in front of dozens of witnesses. This sordid story made the headlines for days.

Cersei keeps her eyes downcast all the way, stumbles on the steps of Tyrion so as not to fall, perhaps she is haunted by all the whispers of pity that surround her at all times.

Jaime thinks about what could have happened.

_She was very lucky, Jaime_ , Tyrion repeats in her mind.  _If Robert had reached her throat..._

He stops abruptly, turns around. Cersei rubs her frozen hands together, mist comes out of her mouth.

She could have died - she could have met the same fate as her twin's heart when she didn't hesitate before tearing it apart.

"I'm glad to see you too," Jaime says.

A few feet away, when Cersei slips on a slab of ice, he catches her before she falls.


	4. Chapter 4

As every time he enters the house, Tyrion can't help but feel an immense emptiness. The rooms are spacious, the furniture luxurious, the bookcases full, and yet something is missing.

Warmth.

The one that escaped when Cersei slammed the door without warning, three years earlier, to throw herself on the engagement ring that Robert Baratheon offered her.

He notices that she no longer wears it, nor her wedding ring. She takes off her coat and shoes, and looks carefully around, as if she had just landed in an unknown place, as if she didn't belong here.

"Are you hungry?" Tyrion asks.

He finds her changed, something that has nothing to do with her physical appearance has taken away her beauty. When she walks past the large mirror hanging above the fireplace, she immediately looks away.

"Yes," she answers in a small voice that doesn't sound like her.

Tyrion nods her head and walks towards the kitchen. After a few seconds of hesitation, Cersei and Jaime follow him and settle down around the table.

The silence covers them, becomes heavy. While Tyrion breaks eggs in a bowl, she keeps her eyes down to her bruised hands, her hair falls like curtains around her face. Even though he is still terribly angry with her, he feels his heart capsize. He tries to remember the last time the three of them sat in that kitchen, the last time they laughed, the last time Cersei and Jaime devoured each other's eyes.

He can't.

Cersei frowns when he puts a steaming omelet in front of her.

"Mushrooms," she remarks.

She looks up at him.

"You remember that.''

A small glow appeared in her eyes.

"Of course," he replies simply.

Jaime wrinkles his nose in disgust.

"I never understood how you could love mushrooms.''

"And I never understood how you could hate that.''

A small laugh crosses the barrier of their lips.

"No mushrooms, huh?" Jaime asks when Tyrion hands him his plate.

He rolls his eyes and, for a moment, he almost manages to believe that everything is back to the way it used to be.

When silence falls again, he sighs a little.


	5. Chapter 5

When Cersei presses the switch, she holds her breath.

Her teenage bedroom hasn't changed since the last time she set foot in it. She steps forward and puts her suitcase on her bed before sitting down.

Her eyes wander over the white walls, a tender smile on her lips as she contemplates her collection of postcards hanging on one of them.

_It's ridiculous_ , Robert blows into her mind.  _Worthy of a five-year-old_ .

Her smile disappears.

She caresses the clean sheets with her fingertips, pretty sky-blue sheets, her favorite color, sheets she knows well. A strange feeling is born in the hollow of her heart when she thinks back to that famous night when everything changed, when the burning love that she and Jaime had for each other became too strong for them to resist any longer.

She remembers the softness of his skin, the tenderness of his kisses.

She remembers his pleas as she threw some clothes into her suitcase, in a hurry to join Robert who had parked not far from the house.

Cersei shakes her head, tears of rage burn her eyes. She puts away the few clothes she brought with her in her closet. She sees a cardboard box, opens it and realizes that the picture frames that are thrown in there jumbled up are the ones that were on her dresser before.

Tyrion and Jaime's frozen smiles are sharper than the dagger that slashed her skin and bruised her soul.

Cersei pushes the cardboard back into the shadows and puts on her pajamas. She hears Jaime and Tyrion chatting in the hallway, almost expecting them to enter her room to slip into bed and exchange confidences with her through the night.

The voices move away and fade away. Nothing breaks the silence any more but the beating of her own heart. She sighs.

With her eyes closed, she sits down in front of her dressing table, cries echo in her memory - her own. Feeling her way, she grasps a rubber band and ties her hair - she raises the shield.

Before she no longer has the courage to do so, Cersei opens her eyes, almost wondering who this stranger in the mirror is, marked for life by a mistake that she thought was an opportunity that couldn't be denied.

A tear rolls down her cheek when she touches the hideous scar on her right cheek with her fingertips.


	6. Chapter 6

Jaime and Tyrion are already up when Cersei appears. She stands in the kitchen doorway, hesitating to come forward, feeling too exposed with her light pyjamas uncovering her arms, she regrets not having brought a bathrobe.

"We're not going to eat you," says Jaime without even looking at her. "You can come"

His voice is as cold as the snow that fell in abundance all night long. Cersei shivers.

"Good morning," she mutters as she joins her brothers.

Tyrion is reading the newspaper while sipping his coffee. A small smile distorts her lips.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, fine.''

Jaime's gaze lingers on her bare arms, or rather on the bruises that cover them. He frowns, she feels vulnerable, she can't wait for them to disappear, and then she thinks of that awful scar that she will keep for life, she feels like crying.

She must admit that they don't mind looking her in the face, they don't mind looking at what happened to her beautiful face, almost as if she were still pretty, it's both comforting and despairing.

"You're not working today?" she asks to divert their attention.

"I've been on vacation," Jaime answers distractedly.

Cersei feels like a stranger has taken the place of her twin, her other half, she trembles from within.

"I don't have any contracts right now, so I guess I'm on vacation," Tyrion yawns. "That's the advantage of being a photographer.''

This mention of his profession brings her back to the time when he was always walking around with his camera, not a day went by without him capturing their stolen moments, so many memories that gather dust in a forgotten box, why does everything have to remind her of what she left behind the day she left?

"You didn't decorate the house for Christmas.''

Cersei understands that she made a mistake when Jaime's gaze is sharply focused on her - the stars that once shone there have been swallowed up by the shadows of resentment.

"We haven't celebrated Christmas since you left.''

And he gets up suddenly before leaving the room. Tyrion breathes a long sigh.

"You left three weeks before Christmas, so it's fair to say we didn't have the heart to celebrate. Jaime hates this holiday now.''

Shame makes her head bow because she hears reproaches in her little brother's voice, those he does not yet dare to utter, those that will brood and sweep her away when the time comes, like a snowstorm.

"What about you? Do you hate Christmas too?''

Cersei foolishly thinks that Tyrion's eyes have exactly the same color as Jaime's - the same color as her own.

He shrugs his shoulders and plunges back into his reading.

Cersei is silent.


	7. Chapter 7

Jaime watches Cersei re-appropriate the house, she touches every piece of furniture, every shelf and every time she closes her eyes, perhaps trying to recall pleasant memories. He grins inside every time he looks at the scar that will forever mark her cheek or the bruises on her arms, cruel memories of her husband's aggression, the urge to take her in his arms makes him itch and he hates himself for it, just like he hates her.

Evening finally falls, Tyrion is slumped on the couch, immersed in some novel, while Jaime stares at the TV without really watching it. Cersei is sitting just a few inches away from him, his heart is on the edge of his lips.

He jumps violently when she grabs his wrist with her slender fingers and touches the watch he is wearing.

"You kept it.''

This is the one she gave him on their seventeenth birthday - a lifetime ago. Jaime clenches his fists.

"I kept it as a reminder not to make the same mistake twice.''

Cersei's wounded expression saddens him as much as it delights him. As if he could no longer hold on, Jaime stands up and explodes.

"I begged you to stay.''

"Jaime...''

"I got down on my knees, I begged you again and again, I even ran after you and you didn't give a damn. Damn it, Cersei, I loved you to death, I would have done anything for you, I would have even died for you if I had to, and you let me down without even looking back!''

Cersei listens to him speak, eyes wide open, unable to defend herself. Tyrion attends the scene without making the slightest movement, sounded.

"You were the woman of my life," he continues, angrily wiping away his tears. "If I had had to send Father and the company away so that I could run away with you and love you freely, I wouldn't have hesitated even for a second while you ran away with the first powerful, rich guy who took an interest in you, and for what?! To get beaten up and have your face slashed?!"

Jaime realizes that he started screaming and maybe he went too far. Cersei shakes, looks at him in horror - is that how she used to look at Robert when he pushed the bottle a little too hard? He calms down a little but it's too late, the damage is done, Cersei gets up in turn, desperate.

"I should never have come, it was a mistake. I will leave tomorrow morning.''

Her tears cascade down her cheeks, she turns away and runs upstairs. Jaime falls on the sofa, head in his hands. Tyrion approaches him and presses his arm to comfort him.

"It's going to be okay," he whispers.

"I shouldn't have said that. Not like that...''

"You shouldn't have," confirms Tyrion.

"She broke my heart, she broke my...''

"Jaime. I know. I was there. And she broke my heart too.''

When Tyrion goes upstairs to see how Cersei is doing, Jaime takes off his watch and contemplates the word engraved behind the dial.

_Forever_.

And he starts crying again.


	8. Chapter 8

When Tyrion pushes the door of Cersei's room, she's sitting in front of her mirror and cries all the tears of her body. He approaches with a hesitant step.

"I'm hideous now," she lets go in a hiccup.

"Cersei...''

"People look at me with pity in the street. I'm ugly, Jaime hates me and he's right, I have nothing, nothing at all...''

Without thinking further, Tyrion wraps his arms around Cersei and draws her against him. She lets him do so and her tears flow down his neck.

"You're not ugly, Cersei. I'm the one who's ugly... I'm the one who's a dwarf.''

"You're not ugly," she retorts automatically.

"It's nice of you to lie to me...''

She laughs slightly. Tyrion holds her a little tighter.

"It's just a scar, Cersei. You're still beautiful, I assure you. And even if you weren't, Jaime and I would still love you.''

"Jaime hates me...''

He sighs, moves away from her and plunges his eyes into hers.

"No, Cersei. Jaime is very, very angry with you. And I'm angry too. But he doesn't hate you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have asked you to come here.''

The glimmer of hope that appears in her eyes hurts his heart, he has rarely seen someone so desperate. Seeing that she is still trembling, he takes her hand and guides her to her bed.

"I have to... I have to get out of here," she manages to articulate once she has slipped under the comforter. "It hurts too much to...''

"You've only just arrived. Stay, please... it will get better, you'll see. But only if you stay.''

"Tyrion...''

"Please stay until Christmas.''

She yawns, exhausted from crying too much.

"I thought you didn't celebrate Christmas anymore.''

He shrugs his shoulders.

"That's true. Are you going to stay?''

Defeated, Cersei nods.

"Good. Good night.''

Before he walks away, she grabs his wrist.

"Stay with me, please. I don't want to be alone tonight.''

Tyrion wants to answer that he doesn't know if it's a good idea because he's still very angry at her, because you don't fix three years of silence in one conversation, but he sees the scar on her face and the bruises on her arms and he thinks that he and Jaime aren't the only ones who have suffered.

"Push over," he grumbles. "And don't make me fall out of bed. »

She smiles faintly.

"Thank you, little brother.''

When Cersei falls asleep, Tyrion thinks about all the three of them before she threw it all away, and his tears start to flow.


End file.
